Harry Potter and the Archway of Torture

Chapter Two

The New Guardians

July 19, 2003

 

            “Now remember to pack everything. I don’t want to have to come back here for anything you’ve forgotten,” a voice drifted over Ron in bed. He slowly opened one eye and stared at his mother.

            “We should have left the day before yesterday, but I didn’t want to deal with that damn house-elf. Pardon my language . . . ”

            Ron turned away from her, droning out her voice and falling back to sleep. Some time later, he was awakened by Fred, jumping on his bed like a little child, and George, shaking him, with a smile on both of their faces.

            “Mum says you need to hurry and get up,” George said, standing over him. “Also, that there’s no time for a shower, you’ll have to wait ‘til we get there.” Both of them were still smiling.

            “What are you two so happy about?” Ron asked, voice hoarse.

            “We had a talk with Dad, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Mad-Eye last night, and were made members of the Order,” Fred said, jumping off the bed.

            Ron sat up and said, “You’re kidding.”

            “Nope. There were some difficulties since we didn’t really graduate from Hogwarts, but we still got in.”

            “Mum was upset when we told her this morning,” George said.

            “She made us de-gnome the garden,” said Fred.

            “So, if I asked you what’s said at the meetings, you probably wouldn’t say, would you?”

            “Oh we might,” George said.

            Ron looked doubtfully and asked, “Shouldn’t both of you be at work?” he asked getting out of bed and getting dressed.

            “We’re opening up a little later than usual. The two of us and Lee have some business with Mundugus, since we made Lee a partner,” Fred said.

            “But right now, we’re going to headquarters with you all. We need to get some . . . thing for communication,” George said, teasing Pig with an Owl Treat as Pig hooted happily. Pig was not as tired as he should have been, having been used by his parents over and over again since Ron returned home. They were not patient enough to use Errol for their letters to Dumbledore.

            “What type of business do you have to do now, buying more stolen goods from Mundungus?”

            Fred put his finger to his lips and winked.

            Ron started putting his shoes on, happy he had packed last night instead of waiting, and stopped, wanting to finally ask them something. He looked at his brothers, “Why do both of you act like we’re not related when we’re in public?”

            “Because,” Fred said as if this was the most obvious thing, “we have to live up to the title of Older Brother, idiot!” And they both disapparated.

            Ron sighed and took his trunk and Pig’s cage downstairs. When he reached the kitchen, he saw how small their group was now. With Ron and Ginny the only ones returning to Hogwarts and his father at work or doing something on Dumbledore’s orders, the house was rather silent. He was so used to noise in the house that he found the silence uncomfortable.

            Ginny was sitting at the table, drumming her fingers and their mother was standing in the doorway with a disapproving look on her face.

            “I told them . . .” his mother mumbled. She turned around and called, “FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!” Now the yelling, Ron was used to. “I TOLD YOU TO DE-GNOME THE GARDEN!”

            Crack Fred and George apparated into the kitchen. “We did,” George said.

            “Then why do I see gnomes in the garden?”

            “Ooh . . . Mum, if you’re seeing gnomes, maybe you should lie down—”

            “DON’T TELL ME I’M SEEING THINGS! YOU DIDN’T PUT AN EFFORT INTO IT,” she yelled.

            “They’re just going to come back anyway,” George grumbled.

            “I DON’T CARE! I WANT THEM OUT OF MY GARDEN!”

            Fred looked at George and said lightly, “I’ve just realized that Mum yells too much.”

            “A little too much,” George replied.

            “IF YOU WOULD DO WHAT I TELL YOU AND NOT ACT FOOLISH ALL—”

            “All right, all right . . . we’re going,” George interrupted. “Jeez, forget to properly de-gnome the garden—”

            “—and your mother breathes down your neck,” Fred finished. Their mother opened her mouth again but Fred held up his hands and said quickly, “But enough with the argument. George . . . lets go de-gnome us a garden.” They went outside and Ron could see the gnomes that were left were trying to run back into their holes.

            Ron’s mum was now mumbling angrily under her breath while she put her cloak on. “Every day there’s something with those two . . .”

            Ron and Ginny looked at each other. “Mum,” Ron said, “if you keep yelling like that, you might give yourself a heart attack.”

            “Just get ready,” she snapped.

            “Oh no, she’s in a bad mood now,” Ginny said.

            “I am ready,” Ron told her.

            Ginny smirked. “Took you long enough.”

            “Shut up!”

            “Both of you be quiet.” Ron’s mum stepped outside. “HURRY UP!” she yelled out.

            “I THOUGHT YOU WANTED US TO DO IT PROPERLY,” George yelled back. An owl swooped through the door over their mother’s head and landed clumsily on the table in front of Ron. It was Errol. About time.

            “YOU HAD BETTER, BUT I STILL WANT YOU TO HURRY UP,” she yelled back. Ron removed the letter from Errol’s leg. It had to be from Hermione.

            “JUST GO WITHOUT US! WE’LL MEET YOU THERE!”

            “And I thought the silence was actually going to last this morning,” Ginny mumbled.

            “It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable?” Ron asked as he opened the letter.

            “Yeah, but it was still nice. What she say?” Ginny nodded at the letter. Ron looked down at it and began to read out loud:

 

Ron,

      I won’t be able to spend the summer. My parents haven’t really seen me since last summer, which I spent mostly with you all. Not to mention I didn’t spend Christmas with them last year. So I’ll be staying with them until school starts, but I can come Sunday, I think I’m supposed to meet Mundungus like last summer. And, hopefully, my parents will let me come over again. But I won’t be able to stay.

      Say hello to everyone and watch Harry.

 

Hermione

 

            “Well I can understand that,” Mum said. “They rarely see her, only a few days a year.”

            “Watch Harry,” Ron mumbled, still looking down at Hermione’s letter. “Hermione’s smart, but some of the things she says and does are a little stupid. Best thing to do is just leave Harry alone for a while. He just needs to get used to Sirius’s death.”

            Now the house was completely quiet.

            “Ron,” his mother said silently. “Help me put the Grandfather clock in the family trunk.” He went with his mother into the livingroom, thinking. Ron knew how serious Order business was, but Sirius’s death really brought it to his attention. But Ron still felt confident enough to join after he left Hogwarts.

 

 

 

 

Remus stepped into the House of Black first, hearing only silence. Not a single thing was moving in the eery silence. Harry stepped through, carrying Hedwig; followed very closely by Tonks, who dragged Harry’s magically feather light trunk behind her; then Mundungus. Mundungus closed the door behind himself after he gave a quick glance outside, and a thought occurred to Remus as he moved further into the house.

            “Tonks, go and check on Buckbeak.” As she started to pass him with the trunk still in front of her, Remus grabbed her arm before she could trip over the umbrella stand. “Silently,” he whispered to her.

            “I can’t help it if I’m clumsy,” she replied, blushing slightly. She walked slowly past the umbrella stand and went upstairs to check on Buckbeak.

            Mundungus opened the door and glanced out again, then said, “I got to pick up Hermione so—”

            But the sound of someone tripping up the stairs interrupted Mundungus. Remus waited for Mrs. Black’s screams to fill the house, but she did not scream, which surprised Remus a great deal, only asked, “Those filthy traitors are back in my house?”

            Her voice echoed through the silence. They all waited a few more seconds before moving. Mundungus pointed outside and stepped out when Remus nodded, leaving Remus to magically lock all the locks on the door.

            Harry, who was next to him, now started to walk stiffly to the door at the far end of the hall, leaving his trunk. Remus could tell his hands were shaking: Hedwig’s cage began to rattle and she woke up, hooting irritably.

            “Harry, are you all right?” Remus asked, following him. Harry said nothing, only nodded, continuing stiffly down the hall.

            When Harry reached the kitchen, he sat down, put his owl on the table, and put his head down next to the cage, obviously not noticing an unknown Black man that was already sitting there with Faux the Phoenix and Albus Dumbledore.

 

 

 

 

Draco felt like throwing up. She was coming again. Pansy was coming again. Was it not bad enough he had to see her at school for ten months? No, she had to ruin the two free months he had away from her. Again.

            Draco sat holding the letter Pansy had just sent to him. He put it down and decided to go outside, feeling very depressed. Normally when he was depressed, he went to play his piano, his sanctuary, but he preferred not to mention it, now that it was gone. Draco’s Aunt Andromeda had given it to him on a visit to his mother when he was five years old. Both of his parents had been furious that she had come to their home. That was why Draco had been shocked that they had let him keep the piano, when they realized that he liked it. Then his parents hired someone to teach him how to play.

            There were those very rare moments when Draco thought his parents were not all that bad. Last Christmas was not one of those times. His father had disposed of it last Christmas because Draco had not shown enough interest in the Dark Lord’s meetings when his father had discussed them at dinner one night. When he had first started at Hogwarts, it had been difficult to not have his piano with him. Now, since he did not have one to come to at home, it was twice as hard to deal with his depression.

            And with the prospect of Pansy coming, Draco felt completely empty without it.

            He left his room and headed for the stairs. As he walked downstairs, he saw his mother coming out of one of the rooms on the lower floor, followed by a woman. His mother ignored him all the time, but loved to introduce him to more pure-bloods. Draco turned and tried to hurry up the stairs but—

            “Draco,” his mother called softly.

            Dammit, he thought.

            “Yes, mother,” he said without turning around.

            “Do you not want to meet your aunt?” she asked.

            Aunt? He turned around and realized the woman now standing beside his mother was Bellatrix Lestrange. He had completely forgotten he was related to her.

            “Of course,” he drawled, as he descended down the stairs. When Draco reached them, he could tell that Bellatrix’s looks said that she definitely fit in with the family. She looked a lot better than she did in that Azkaban photo.

            Bellatrix placed her hands on her hips and looked him over. “He looks arrogant,” she finally commented. “You’ve done a perfect job with him Narcissa.”

            “Thank you,” Narcissa said.

            I know damn well she’s not going to stand there and take credit for raising me, he thought to himself as Bellatrix started to circle around him.

            “A good thing, too,” she said as she continued to circle, “he’s the only descendant of this family.”

            “Of both the Blacks and the Malfoys,” his mother said proudly. “Your aunt and uncle will be staying with us,” she said to Draco.

            “Wonderful,” Draco drawled, throwing in a hint of pleasure.

            “I want you to come and have lunch with us, I need to talk to you about something.”

            No . . . not lunch, he thought to himself as Bellatrix stopped circling.

            “I don’t think I can, mother,” he told her. “I have a letter to Pansy to write.” Bellatrix was watching him closely.

            “Oh, is she coming over again?”

            “No,” Draco said quickly and firmly. The last thing he needed was his mother, aunt, and Pansy to all be here with him in this manor. Narcissa would probably try to plan another wedding. And he refused, no matter how much it would please her, to marry Pansy Parkinson.

            “Why not?”

            “Because I don’t want her to,” he said before he could think about what he was saying. He had slipped. He could not believe he had. Draco had not slipped in his words in about five years.

            His mother’s face tightened. “You don’t? Why?” Her voice was as tight as her face. It was astonishing how ugly she could look when she was mad or disgusted.

            He hesitated before saying, “Of course I want her to.”

            “Come on Narcissa,” Bellatrix said. “If the boy doesn’t like this Pansy girl, then don’t force her on him.”

            Draco looked at his aunt, surprised. Maybe he might actually like her. Then he remembered her screaming during the meeting and knew he would not.

            “She’s a pure-blood,” Narcissa said.

            “Is she ugly?”

            “Yes,” Draco said. “She looks like a dog.”

            “Oh, Narcissa,” Bellatrix said surprised, “We don’t marry people like that. Beautiful stays with beautiful. And you’re trying to put your only heir with a girl who looks like a dog.”

            Narcissa nodded, in agreement. “I’ll look into Durmstrang.”

            Draco gave a miserable, unobserved sigh. He missed his piano.

 

 

 

 

Harry heard familiar voices and an unknown voice. He was breathing very fast. Being back in Grimmauld Place, where Sirius should have been, and the abrupt presence of that snake, had all hit him suddenly at the same time.

            There was a hand placed on his shoulder and someone was speaking softly to him, though he could not understand them. The contact made the snake hiss even louder, and harder to hold. But Harry knew that this person was a friend. He had no idea how he knew, but he did.

            This is all in your head, he told himself. It’s not real. Harry tried to concentrate on that thought, but the emotion of being in this house was distracting him completely. And he did not even believe it himself.

            Harry felt his body being pulled back in his chair. He had to concentrate. Harry needed to find out how he was going to control this thing when it was getting stronger and coming more often.

            Another set of hands grabbed him, and Harry heard the phoenix song in his body. Slowly, the snake ebbed away. After a few moments had gone by, Harry relaxed some, a soft ache somewhere near his heart. Opening his eyes, he saw two concerned faces: Lupin’s and Albus Dumbledore’s. Harry stared, surprised, for a moment at them, then Hedwig hooted. Harry looked at her and saw her sitting in her cage, head cocked to the side, looking concerned.

            Lupin and Dumbledore let go of him, Lupin asking, “Are you all right?”

            “Yes, I just got dizzy. It’s nothing,” Harry lied, now trying to ignore the ache in his heart.

            “Hmpf,” Lupin sounded doubtful.

            “Really,” Harry pressed.

            Lupin sat in a chair next to Harry, deciding not to press it. Dumbledore, however, stared as he sat down next to a Black man that Harry had just now noticed.

            Though the stranger was sitting, Harry could tell he was tall, and lean. He had a scar on his neck, stretching from the side and running into the front of his robes. He looked about a few years older than Lupin, who was in his mid-thirties, and his hair was cut very close to his head. The man’s hazel eyes were watching Harry. His eyes darted up toward Harry’s scar, like most’s did, and his face was completely blank.

            Lupin looked over at Dumbledore and asked, “Are we having an unannounced meeting?”

            Dumbledore looked away from Harry, who was avoiding his eyes, and addressed Lupin, “Not really. I came to bring Nicolas to headquarters,” gesturing to the man next to him.

            Lupin extended a hand, “Remus Lupin.”

            “Nicolas Raine,” he replied, accepting the given hand. Harry noticed he had an American accent.

            The door to the kitchen opened and Tonks walked in, saying, “Buckbeak’s fine— Oh!” Noticing Dumbledore and his guest.

            “Hello,” Nicolas Raine said.

            “Hi,” Tonks said. “Hey Professor Dumbledore.”

            “Good afternoon Tonks,” Dumbledore smiled at her. “I have observed that you have been a red head a lot lately.”

            Tonks smiled and sat down in a chair, almost missing it. “Well, I’m trying to keep to normal colors. My hair’s really black, but I prefer red,” she informed him. “So . . . is this supposed to be a meeting?” She glanced in Harry’s direction, who wanted to leave. Raine was still watching him.

            “No, Tonks,” Dumbledore answered. “I needed to introduce Nicolas to the Order. Well actually, I can’t, I need someone to do it for me at today’s meeting, I will be taking care of other business involving Hogwarts.”

            Harry thought about excusing himself, he might have wanted to know everything that was going on before, but what he learned a few weeks ago was all he needed to know.

            Harry turned away from the conversation and the eyes of Nicolas Raine, and found that Faux was also in the room. Harry knew now that the phoenix song, which had brought Harry back, came from Faux . . . or was it Dumbledore?

            Harry went to sit next to Faux, and when he sat down the phoenix rubbed his beak once over Harry’s heart and the ache went away.

            Time passed and the adults continued to talk as Harry continued to sit with Faux. Bits of their conversation met Harry’s ears. Raine was an ex-Auror . . . He was one of the foreign contacts who had been spying on a number of people in his country . . . He had a daughter who would be attending Hogwarts in September—

            Clink . . . Clink . . . Clink!

            Harry could hear locks being unlocked down the hall and the door slowly opened. Lupin, Dumbledore, Tonks, and Raine watched the kitchen door, waiting. The kitchen door finally opened, hiding Harry. Footsteps were heard on the stairs, and Mrs. Weasley walked in.

            “Oh . . . good-afternoon,” Mrs. Weasley greeted the adults. They all greeted Mrs. Weasley and she was introduced to Raine.

            Ron must be here too, Harry thought to himself. Harry knew that if he was with someone he was not likely to kill Kreacher. Harry wondered if he’d be able to tell himself that when Kreacher finally stood in front of him.

            “Good-afternoon Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.

            “Hello Harry, dear.” Raine leaned in to whisper something to Dumbledore.

            “Is Ron upstairs?”

            “Yes, dear.”

            Harry excused himself, avoiding meeting anyone else’s eyes, and went upstairs to the room he and Ron shared the year before. When he opened the door, Ginny was sitting on Harry’s bed and Ron was removing clothes from his trunk.

 

 

 

 

“Hey,” someone said from the door.

            Ron turned and saw Harry standing at the door. “Hey Harry, I didn’t know you were already here.”

            “I haven’t been here that long.” Harry sat next to Ginny. “I’ve been sitting downstairs with Faux.”

            “What’s Dumbledore doing here so early?” Ron asked.

            “He’s downstairs introducing a man named Nicolas Raine.”

            “You think they’ll be talking about anything important?” Ron asked, considering going down to listen.

            “Probably,” Harry shrugged. He didn’t really seem to be interested in going downstairs to eavesdrop on them. Ron decided to stay. Harry did not seem in the mood to be alone.

            Ron sat on his bed, with the clothes he was supposed to be taking with him to wash up on his lap. He, Harry, and Ginny sat and talked. Harry was not saying much. He had been like that since they returned from the Ministry of Magic last month.

            Half an hour passed before his mum walked in and interrupted their conversation.

            “Ron,” she said from the doorway. “I know you haven’t washed because your hair’s not even wet.”

            He groaned. It had slipped his mind.

            “Should’ve woken up when mum told you to,” Ginny said.

            Harry actually smiled when Ron said, “Get out Ginny.”

            “Don’t get mad at me, ‘Dirty’,” she taunted.

            “Well hurry, or you won’t get any lunch,” his mum said and left the room.

            “I’ll be right back,” Ron said, following his mother out of the room.

            He walked into one of the bathrooms as he heard the doorbell ring and the screaming of Mrs. Black. Ron hurriedly washed. Ten minutes later, as he stepped out of the tub, the bathroom door opened. Hermione stepped in, then froze in the doorway. Ron was sure that they both realized that he did not even have on a towel and that he was still wet. Hermione’s eyes drifted downward, past his chest and Ron did not cover himself.

            “Hermione,” Ron said after a few moments.

            Her eyes snapped up to his face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I . . . I. . . .” But she, apparently could say nothing. She stopped trying and stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Ron stared at the closed door and slowly crossed his arms over his chest, while a smile crept over his face.

 

 

 

 

Hermione stood outside the bathroom. She was going to apologize. She should not have just walked in. What had made her just walk in? All she had to do was knock and tell Ron if he did not come out, he would not eat until dinner then find Harry, as Mrs. Weasley had asked her to do.

            It was an accident, she said to herself over and over again.

            Finally, Ron stepped out of the bathroom, clothed (his shirt not tucked in), with his hair still slightly dripping.

            “I am so sorry. I really don’t know why I—”

            “It’s okay,” Ron told her. Was he smiling? Hermione stared at him. Of course she was imagining it!

            “What?” Ron asked as she continued to stare.

            “Are you smiling?”

            “No! Why would I be—”

            “Yes you are!”

            “Okay if you knew I was smiling, then why did you ask me if I was?”

            “You’re such an idiot. You know . . . I’m not sorry!”

            “Oh so you meant to walk in on me!” Ron said triumphantly, pointing in her face.

            “That’s not what I meant,” Hermione snapped, smacking his hand out of her face.

            “But it’s what you said, basically.” Ron looked as if he was enjoying pissing her off.

            Hermione stared at him, disgusted, then said, rather aggressively, “Just come down stairs before you starve. In my opinion, I hope you do.” With that said, she walked away. She could not forget what she saw, what was said, or that stupid smile Ron had when he came from the bathroom. What had there been to smile about?

            And where was Harry?

 

 

 

 

Harry sat with Buckbeak longer than he had expected to. The hippogriff was obviously lonely. Maybe it was better if Buckbeak was back with Hagrid, or just set free.

            The door to Mrs. Black’s old bedroom opened, but Harry did not look up. Before they could speak, he said truthfully, “I’m not hungry.” His appetite was absolutely gone, which surprised him, after not eating much at the Dursley’s in the last few days.

            “Are you sure?” It was Hermione. Harry looked up, and when he saw her (why was she looking angry?), words echoed through his mind:

            Love of playing the hero.

            Harry looked back at Buckbeak as Hermione walked slowly to him, and said, “Harry, is something wrong?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her anger slowly ebbing from her face.

            “No,” he answered, when she stopped, standing next to him. Still, he watched Buckbeak.

            Hermione was silent for a while, Harry knew she was staring very closely at him, then—

            “Well . . . okay,” she walked back to the door and left, leaving Harry in Mrs. Black’s dark room alone with Buckbeak again.

            Harry felt lost. He did not want to start connecting Hermione with those words, because then he would never be able to look at her. And Hermione was too close of a friend for Harry to just ignore. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had had difficulties in the past, especially Ron and Hermione, but they never lasted. Harry hoped he would get over this.

            He left the room sometime around two o’clock, surprised, but grateful, that no one else had come to the room after Hermione. After she left, Harry had needed some time alone to think about how he was going to handle everything.

            Harry went back downstairs to his and Ron’s bedroom. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting with Fred and George.

            “Can’t believe we missed a meeting for some dumb gnomes,” Fred was saying, ill-tempered.

            “And lunch,” George added, in the same mood as his twin.

            “Hey Harry,” Fred and George said together, still appearing to be angry, as Harry sat next to Ron on Ron’s bed as Ginny, Fred, and George were sitting on Harry’s. He avoided Hermione’s eyes. She was on Ron’s other side, and was sitting at a little distance from Ron, seeming to be angry with him about something.

            “What’s wrong?” Harry asked Fred and George.

            “We missed a meeting,” Fred said.

            “And lunch,” George added.

            “Where were you?” Hermione asked.

            “They were back home, de-gnoming the garden,” Ginny said.

            “When we stepped in, Dumbledore was holding that phoenix’s tail and then he disappeared,” Fred grumbled.

            “It wasn’t a meeting,” Harry told them. “Dumbledore was just introducing someone.”

            “Who?” Hermione, Fred, and George asked.

            “A man named Nicolas Raine. Lupin’s going to introduce him tonight at the meeting because Dumbledore won’t be there.”

            “Why not?” Fred asked.

            Harry shrugged and said, “Hogwarts’ business I think.”

            “Well . . . we still missed lunch,” George said. Harry smiled, Ron and Ginny laughed, Hermione sighed and shook her head.

            George was called downstairs by Mrs. Weasley some time later, to help Mrs. Weasley with the family clock. The other five sat and Fred told Harry and Hermione that he and George were members of the Order. The news shocked Hermione completely.

            “What? You don’t think we’re capable of doing things for the Order?” Fred asked.

            “As a matter of fact, I’d rather that the safety of so many lives not be put in your hands,” she said coldly.

            “You’ve been a little too irritable since you came back into this room. What’s your problem?” Fred asked.

            “Absolutely nothing,” Hermione said, shooting Ron a disgusted look. Ron turned away from her and laughed silently. Harry would ask him later.

            “Sure Hermione,” Fred said. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

            Hermione began to scowl at Fred, as well. She ignored the Weasley sons and asked Ginny, in a better temper, “So what’s been going on with Fudge at the Ministry? I know it hasn’t been that long since they found out but they need to do something now. There hasn’t been anything in the paper about what they plan to do.”

            “Dad’s said that the Ministry isn’t really doing anything,” Ginny said.

            “What do you mean the Ministry isn’t doing anything?” Harry asked in a tired, wasted voice.

            “Well . . . now that they have to believe You-Know-Who’s back, they haven’t a clue what to do,” Ron said. “They’re scared. Fudge isn’t helping. He hasn’t given them orders to do anything— probably hoping Dumbledore’ll take over.”

            “Dad says Fudge’s been freaking out a lot at the Ministry. Can’t handle the pressure,” Fred said.

            “And these hand books they passed out are garbage,” George said, walking in and throwing a little hand book onto Ron’s bed. Hermione picked it up and flipped through.

            “Oh yeah . . . weren’t you s’pose to get some communication device?” Ron asked.

            “Yeah, but we won’t get it until tonight’s meeting. S’pose to be from Dumbledore, but if he’s not at the meeting . . .” Fred shrugged.

            A few hours later, Hermione bid them goodnight as Order members began to gather in the kitchen for their meeting. Harry, Ron, and Ginny stayed in Harry and Ron’s room, since there was no where else in the house to go, while the meeting went on. Later, at dinner, Harry was not the only one silent.

            That night Harry remained awake, thinking, and unconsciously rocking. Hedwig was on her night’s hunting and Ron was lightly snoring, half hanging off his bed. Harry was calm enough to go to sleep but was not tired. However, he forced himself to sleep, knowing too many would notice if he did not. His dreams carried him to a ragged veil, hanging from an arch, and its darkness beyond.

            When he awoke the next morning, he still looked as if he had not slept at all.

 

 

 

 

When everyone was seated, Remus introduced Raine, as Dumbledore had asked him to. Then got the partnership idea out of the way first. This meeting was for Raine to discuss what he had learned, since this was the only time he could come without anyone noticing he was gone.

            “Things are getting more dangerous then they used to be. The Order is prepared but not as much as we could be. We can’t have the Death Eaters picking us off one by one because we aren’t protected. We need someone who will cover our backs. Voldemort and his followers know who some of us are. Dumbledore thinks it’s best that we have partners. He’d been considering it before but there was too much to do along with keeping inconspicuous about it. And before . . . Voldemort wasn’t attacking, but there’s no telling what he might be planning now that his secrets out. And something like what happened to Arthur and Sturgis is enough of a reason to consider partners.” Remus paused and Mundungus and Severus opened their mouths but Remus interrupted. “Some of you will not have partners, depending on what you do.”

            “So how are we going to chose partners?” Bill asked.

            “Well,” Tonks began, “Dumbledore thinks we should decide . . . should be partnered with someone we trust. If there are problems . . . he’ll be at the next meeting.”

            “How come Dumbledore didn’t come to this meeting?” Elphias Doge asked.

            “Because he’s in another private meeting,” Severus answered.

            “With who?” Emmeline Vance asked.

            “Person unknown,” Severus replied.

            A few seats down, Fred muttered to his brother, Bill, “What about Hagrid, is he with Dumbledore?”

            “I think so,” Bill muttered back.

            “Now what about these disappearances Dumbledore said you’ve been tracking?” Kingsley asked Raine.

            “Earlier last year,” Raine said, voice deep. “I discovered that there was an increase in the number of missing witches and wizards. Remarkably enough, most of those who were missing were people who had been charged with giving Death Eaters information about the government, but had gotten off.

            “Their disappearances were slow at first, out of those gone by Christmas last year, six of them had once been charged. So Dumbledore asked me to follow them. After Voldemort’s” —shivers ran through some of Remus’s fellow members— “secret was exposed, it was obvious that he’s forming something, like he’s not even trying to hide the disappearances anymore.”

            “What of Voldemort’s whereabouts?” Arthur asked Severus.

            “Still nothing,” Severus answered. “I know of meetings in the Malfoy manor, but Voldemort’s” —again shivers ran through the group— “been to none of them.”

            “So what about the meetings?” Remus asked.

            “They’re not really planning anything, only considering things, and expressing their anger from last month’s events,” Severus said, and not for the first time, Remus wondered how he knew these things.

            “What about you Dung?” Bill asked. “Heard anything?”

            “Huh?” Mundungus’s head snapped in Bill’s direction. “Oh . . . naw.”

            “So we know nothing of what he’s planning?” Tonks asked.

            Severus slowly shook his head. Remus began to wonder what Voldemort could be planning without his Death Eaters. Adding to the numerous thoughts that had been running through his mind for weeks.

            Raine went on. He said how he would need more help than what he had. Raine was using a few close friends of his, to keep track of who was missing, but he still could only trust them to a certain point. Dumbledore told him he would find some who could assist him.

            “If we get lucky we might catch them,” Arthur said.

            With no other information to pass on, the meeting came to an end. A few of the members looked a little helpless, with Voldemort working without his Death Eaters, as they stood from the table and left. Remus was half worried and half did not care, at the moment. He staid in his chair, trying to keep his face impassive. This was the third time in his life he had to deal with a hard lost.

            Time passed without Remus noticing, and Molly was serving dinner while Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined them. Remus did not eat. He had decided not to say or do anything in front of Harry that suggested that he missed Sirius, so Remus tried not to attract attention by keeping up a conversation with Arthur. But Arthur seemed to see through this.

            “Remus, are you all right?” Arthur whispered.

            Remus swallowed and nodded.

            “You sure you’re holding up okay?”

            Remus started to nod, then shook his head truthfully. Out of respect, Arthur remained silent. They were both adults, they knew that “I’ll be all right” would have no effect on a person seriously. Those phrases were only said to feel silent gaps, and Remus preferred the silence to those idiotic terms.

            Though there were ten other people in the room with Remus, he felt alone.

 

 

 

 

In Hogwarts, Albus sat at his desk waiting and staring up at the ceiling with his finger tips touching. Suddenly, the door to his office opened, admitting Hagrid and a person who wore a hooded cloak. Albus looked down and smiled at the young woman under the cloak.

            “It has been a long time. I have been wondering when I would see you again,” he said. Standing up, Albus walked around his desk and placed both hands on either side of her shoulders.

            “I’ll be waitin’ downstairs, if you need me, Headmaster?” Hagrid said.

            “Yes, thank you Hagrid,” Albus replied. He stared into the hidden face for a short time after Hagrid had stepped out.

            Preferring not to utter her name out loud, Albus asked, “So, what should I call you during our meetings?”

            “Um . . . Leah’s fine,” she said, removing her hood, showing a tired face. He could hear her accent shining through clearly.

            Albus stepped back and leaned against his desk. Gesturing for her to sit, which she did, he said finally, “As you know, Lord Voldemort has returned to full power. I do not think that I will have to remind you that we need to keep everything that we are planning secret, except from certain members of the Order. As your only parent is working for me, they will, of course, know of your actions, though I am sure they will not interfere. As I know I can trust you, I will leave the . . . new guardians in your hands. If you are sure you can handle it?” Albus looked at his guest over his half-moon spectacles.

            “I can handle it,” she said, seeming very sure of herself. “Trust me, they won’t give me any problems.”

            “They cannot come onto the grounds, as they might frighten the students, you know.”

            “But they won’t hurt any of them,” she protested.

            “That is for their safety as well,” he said firmly.

            “What about an invisibility charm?” she asked, hopefully.

            “I will consider it.” Albus smiled slowly and said, “You must be exhausted after that long trip. I only needed a few understandings first. I will have someone show you the castle and it’s grounds tomorrow. Hagrid will take your things to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and you can sleep.”

            “Okay,” she sighed. As they walked down the stone steps, she replaced her hood over her head, completely shadowing her face.

            At the bottom of the stairs, Hagrid stood outside the door. Hearing footsteps, Albus turned to see Minerva limping down the hall with her cane.  “Oh, and there is one other thing I should tell you before I forget. It would be best if you avoided being seen in the area surrounding my office, Leah.”

            She nodded her recognition and followed Hagrid down the hall. Minerva reached Albus as Hagrid led his guest around the corner. Minerva stepped closer to him and whispered, “Albus, who was that?”

            “Minerva, trust me when I say that it is better that you not know,” he replied. She looked doubtful that she wouldn’t want to know, but said nothing. “Now, we will need to write a letter, along with the regular ones, to all of the parents.”